Bending at the waist, Susannah struggles to catch her breath. “Look, Su, if you need to stop, I’ll stay with you,” I say.
“No, I’m good. I just can’t believe how much better shape the rest of you are. Especially Sam.”
“Why me?”
“Because you drink beer like it’s water,” she says.
Grinning Sam wags her finger at Susannah. “Ah ha. But I also drink plenty of water and get a lot of cardio. There’s the difference.”
“You eat spam and beef jerky,” Susannah retorts.
“Only when your sister isn’t cooking for me.”
“Maybe you and Dana should get married,” Olivia says, starting to move on.
We all follow her.
“No, that would be queer,” Sam says.
“Why?” Olivia is laughing, but she looks honestly interested.
“Butches don’t date butches,” Sam replies.
“Not true,” I counter. “My ex was a butch. I knew a lot of butches in the States who date butches.”
“Are you saying you want me, Dana? Because I’m not sure how I feel about that at this late date in our friendship,” Sam grins.
Rolling my eyes, I snort my answer. Susannah is panting beside me, but she seems to be okay, so I decide not to call a halt for a break.
Olivia keeps prodding. “So some butches date butches and some date femmes?”
“Yes,” I say. “But don’t simplify it. Some lesbians consider themselves femmes who will strictly only date butches and vice versa. Some femmes will only date other femmes. Some butches will absolutely only date other butches. Some don’t care whether their partner is butch or femme and tend to get together with either, depending on other factors. And some lesbians don’t label themselves as either butch or femme.”
“Don’t forget the varying degrees of butch and femme,” Sam continues. “I mean, I am definitely way butcher than Dana.”
Raising my eyebrow at Olivia, I tilt my head toward Sam. “And then there are the butches who are so insecure in their butchness that they have to put themselves higher on some imaginary butch scale.”
“Hardy har,” Sam says.
“My ex was like that,” I say. “She didn’t like other butches and she was constantly putting down women who didn’t live up to her grunting and oil-changing brand of butchness.”
“But you consider yourself butch?”
Nodding, I think about it for a second. “I guess I fall close to the butch side of the scale than not. It isn’t a label that makes a big difference to me, though. I mean, I don’t wear it like a badge of honor or a point of pride like some butches. I just am what I am.”
“Well, I think it sounds totally confusing. Like, if two butches get together or two femmes, who is supposed to lead on the dance floor?”
“Oh Olivia,” Sam says, as we round the corner to the last hill. “You couldn’t possibly hope to understand. You may be wearing a polo shirt, but you’re no dyke.”
“Whatever, Sam!” Affronted, she pulls ahead of Sam and starts stalking up the last hill, pounding her walking stick into the ground in front of her. “I’m down with the lesbians,” she calls over her shoulder. “I’ve read Curious Wine. I listen to Crys Matthews!”
“Who’s Crys Matthews?” I ask.
“What’s Curious Wine?” Sam responds.
Sighing, Susannah glares at both of us. “You two are so ignorant of lesbian culture.”
“You’re just cranky because you’re tired,” I say, patting her shoulder. “You’ll feel better at the top.”
“Yeah,” Sam says, turning back to the path. “This is the hardest one, but it will be over soon.”
She looks up the hill. “Olivia,” she calls. “You should stay with us. This part is steep and you might need help.” She slams her walking stick down on the ground in front of her and it shatters as she’s making her first step. Before I can react, she tumbles to the ground and lands face first in the dirt. Olivia hears the commotion and comes running back to see if she’s okay. It’s a good thing she does, because I am laughing too hard to be of any help. Holding on to the side of a tree, I lean over, laughing until I can’t breathe as Sam pulls herself off the ground and kicks at the broken pieces of her makeshift walking stick.
She turns to glare at me for a second before she starts laughing as well. Olivia hands Sam’s walking stick to her. “Take this,” she says. “I honestly don’t need it and you obviously do.”
Sam takes it begrudgingly and we all start off again. This section really is terribly steep and I find myself leaning on my walking stick more often than not. Olivia is in the lead now and she’s just traipsing lightly up the hill without pausing to catch her breath.